


Stay Alive

by HarrysHook



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, F/M, Swan Queen - Freeform, Swanfire - Freeform, graphic violence/injury, minor smut, oppression warning, racism warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarrysHook/pseuds/HarrysHook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of an apocalyptic nuclear war, cities have rebuilt, some for the worst. Under a strict, oppressive government a rebellion has risen, comprised of the rejected and the bohemians living in the wasteland of former Maine. Emma Swan is a police officer charged with catching these rebels for execution. The only trouble is the rebel leader that she's fallen in love with.  She must find a way to keep him safe while keeping their relationship a secret, or both their heads will be on the chopping block.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Warning - This fic will contain racist, homophobic and offensive language. The views of the characters in the story do not reflect my personal views. It is used solely to show the terrible conditions this city lives under and how poorly the people are treated by the government. If you are offended, good. You'll understand the story the best. If you wish to speak (respectfully) about the subjects in this story you are free to message me on Tumblr (abrehamian).
> 
> This fic will contain Captain Swan as a romantic and sexual relationship and Swan Fire and Swan Queen as friendships. Both Neal and Regina will be written as protagonists and Killian as an anti-hero. If you don't agree with this portrayals, ignore this fic and don't complain to me.

The echo of their love ricocheted off the crumbling walls, gasps and moans filling the cracks between centuries-old graffiti. Soft glow from the kerosene lamp glimmered in the sweat clinging to their naked forms, the sweet aroma of sex filling the concrete room. Here they were together; here they were in love.

He already drifted off to sleep, despite his soft panting in the heat. Emma propped herself onto her elbow, tracing the curves of the muscles on his chest. He shifted under her light touch, making her smile,

“Killian?”

“Mhm?” He groaned, the sound rumbling under her fingertips.

“I love you.”

Eyes flickering open, Emma caught her breath at the sea of blue there, as she did every time. His red lips pulled into a sleepy grin,

“I love you too.”

Her fingers trailed down his arm to the bandages wrapped around his left wrist where his arm stopped. Killian winced when she ran her hand over the wound.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt that much.” He lied, trying a smirk.

“Won’t you tell me what happened?”

A rumbling approached overhead accompanied by the obnoxious sound of a train horn; they pulled their thin blanket over themselves as it passed, sending dust sprinkling down from the concrete ceiling. They pressed tight together under the flimsy sheet, noses touching, breathing each other's air. He placed a soft kiss to her lips, ignoring her question,

“We should get some sleep.”

“Killian…”

“Not now, Emma.”

He never told her what happened in the field. Fighting a revolution was difficult, she understood that, but it didn’t stop her worrying. She gave up for the night, turned their lamp off and snuggled into his side. It couldn’t have been long past midnight before she awoke to his whimpers. His flesh under her cheek searing and red and his dark hair clung to his forehead from the sweat. Harsh, white light occasionally passed through the frosted and dirty window, allowing her to see his eyes moving rapidly under his lids and his lips try forming words.

“Killian?” Emma asked, gripping his shoulders to still him. He bolted out of his nightmare, nearly headbutting her as he sat upright. Rapid heartbeats passed before he realized the sharp pain in his wrist, collapsing back against the pillows in cries.

“Be quiet!” She hushed, ducking against his sweat-soaked chest as the white light passed by the window again. When it subsided, she climbed out of the blankets to grab the washcloth from their water bin. Beads of water trailed down his forehead as she wrung it out over him. 

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay, Princess.” Emma scowled at the nickname, rubbing the cloth down his neck, ignoring his protests. 

“Don’t be stupid, you’re seriously hurt, why won’t you let me help?” 

He was silent for a moment before scowling in disgust, “I don’t need medicine from you.” He’d said it jokingly this morning, when he had a left hand. Now his words were spiteful, filled with anger and disdain. She immediately withdrew her hands, unable to look him in the eye. He sighed as he flopped back against the pillow,

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so angry.” 

“You’re in pain; you need medicine.” Emma snapped, raising her hand as he tried to interject, “If you don't use the medicine I have, then you can go get some in the wasteland tomorrow.” Though her gaze was hard, internally she wished he would just give up. She didn’t want him to have to leave in the morning. It would take a long time for him to recover, no matter how well he insisted he was. 

They’d had this quarrel many times before; scrapes, gashes, even the concussions all paled in comparison to this case. 

“You know what they put in that shit, right?” He’d say, every time without fail, “Some mind-control bullshit. I’ll be damned to hell before I let that crocodile control me.”

Every time she’d rebuttal, “I’ve taken plenty of medicine and I’m fine. I’m here with you aren’t I?” Yet he’d still refuse. This time, she could not brush it off. This time, he might not make it back to the wastes. 

His eyes were wide, with either pain or shock at her outburst, she didn’t know, but he fell silent either way. Emma flopped down next to him, making it a point to lay facing away from him. They must have fallen asleep quickly and soundly because the next time she opened her eyes, it was morning and he was gone. Red light from the work drones outside washed out the grey dawn sunlight as they blared the morning alarm. 

Groggily, Emma sat and changed into her uniform, folded the blankets and pillows into their drawer, and stuffed a roll of bread in her mouth. It wasn’t until the alarms turned off that she began to scramble toward the door. It was really a window, the only window in her tiny compartment, that ran the full length of the single room. She unlatched the lock and flipped the window out, jumping down the two-foot drop to the dusty ground. The drone was stationed directly in front of her compartment this morning; she could almost feel the red lasers scanning her body as she jumped to pull the window shut. 

The neighbour to her right, whom she shared the outhouse across the street with, was also running late, slamming his window shut as she passed. His name was Neal, and he’d lived in that apartment almost his whole life. Thankfully, police officers like Emma were given the freedom to live where they wanted with minor home checks, but Neal, being a construction worker, had lived in the outskirts since the age of 12. He’d told her that his mother was murdered when he was very young, his father so stricken with grief after that he’d become obsessed over it and all but abandoned him. Having been orphaned as a baby, Emma sympathized, and often brought him extra food as her salary was much greater than his.

Once or twice, she’d caught him stealing, minor things like an apple or a watch, and let him off easy. In return, he kept her meetings with Killian a secret from the home checkers. Killian was a rebel and if the government found out she was meeting him in secret, she’d be banished, or worse. 

The sun was already hot and hazy as it peaked over the top of distant skyscrapers, their windows reflecting pale grey and pink light. Emma and Neal walked silently side-by-side until they crested the steep hill dividing the outskirts and inner city. The distant clanging of construction equipment to the east called Neal away; he departed with a smile and wished her good luck at work. Emma returned the good faith and continued north, into the heart of the city.

Downtown was busy this morning; the rich in their cars nearly gridlocked, blocking pedestrians from crossing the streets. The foot traffic was worse as crowd gathered impatiently on crosswalks and in the few gaps between cars. Above everyone, electronic billboards on the sides of the skyscrapers displayed their president, an older man with long hair, a long nose and cruel eyes. Golden text shimmered above him, reminding the public of the cityhall meeting at 5:30 that evening, a half hour after most workers left their jobs. Nearly a mile walk from the inner city, no wonder the wealthy were already on their way.

“Excuse me, police coming through.” Emma exhaled, shoving her way through the crowds to get to the station. It was no relief, however, as the precinct was also flooded with people.  
“You’re finally here.” Her partner, David, grumbled as he plopped a stuffed folder in her arms, “We’ve got one in the back.”

“I haven’t even put my stuff down yet, can’t he wait?” 

“Afraid not.” He winked, tapping the large, blue ‘classified’ stamp on the folder. The stamp meant only one thing... 

Rebel.

Dropping her backpack at her desk, Emma rushed to the interrogation rooms, dodging clusters of people as her heart roared in her ears. The fear that it could be Killian crashed over her every time this happened, but today was worse. He was injured badly and might not have gotten over the fence. He could have passed out in the streets…

The moment the guard let her into the hall lined with interrogation cells always felt surreal. Time seemed to slow as she was ushered into the observing area and she always struggled to keep her sigh of relief internal when it was someone different. 

Today the man behind the two-way glass was new to her, dressed in a long, black robe with skin darker than she’d ever seen. Dark-skinned people were not allowed in the city unless their family was rich, or they had been well-educated elsewhere. Her captain, Regina Mills, was one of these people. She was strict and often wore a scowl when she was thinking, as she did when Emma entered the observation room, but she was not unkind. Why the government painted them as savages, she didn’t understand. Even this rebel; his eyes were dark, but warm.

He smiled as she entered the room with him, his face lighting up with recognition. She tried not to panic as she sat down, thankful the mirror was behind her so Captain Mills couldn’t see her face. Placing the folder on the table in front of her, she pulled the string and let the massive file spring open. 

“So, Merlin-” She began, but he cut her off,

“You’re Emma?” Her heart stopped, a lump forming in her throat, “Killian was right, you are a blonde beauty.”

“Killian Jones? So you know him.” Trying to regain her composure, her cheeks reddened at the compliment. He seemed to understand when her gaze found his.

“Yes, we’re friends. He said you did a number on him here a few months back.” She scribbled the note in his file. 

“You have a large file here. You want to tell me why?”

He shrugged, the chains around his wrists clanging loudly, “Petty thievery mostly.” 

“Is that what you were doing today when you were caught?”

“Yes.”

“What were you stealing?” He was silent for a moment, his face twisted nervously.

“Medicine.” 

The silence following was deafening. Stealing medicine was a capital crime. The resources used to make it were scarce, and taking any outside the city was forbidden. A lump lodged in her throat; there was no way she could save him. 

“Why?” Was the only word she could muster.

“My friend was hurt yesterday. His hand was blown clean off by one of your soldiers,” The scorn in his voice sounded just like Killian earlier that morning. Emma’s heart stuttered when she realized who he was stealing medicine for, “We have no medicine out in the wastes. He’s going to die without my help.”

The steel door swung open, making them both jump as it slammed into the concrete wall. Regina strode in, flanked by two officers. A rare smirk graced her red lips, clearly thrilled he’d admitted to not only stealing medicine, but to aiding the Rebellion.

Two capital crimes under the price of one head.

“Well, Merlin, looks like you’ll be joining us at cityhall this evening.” The officers grabbed each of his arms, unhooking his handcuffs. 

“What?” He panicked, dark brown eyes wide with fear when he turned back to her. 

“Regina, wait.” Emma protested, standing suddenly, her chair toppling over. Regina was shocked, but fell quiet to listen, “What about his friend, the one that’s hurt?”

“Well if he got hurt by our soldiers, he must be a rebel. I have no sympathy for rebels.” Rolling her eyes, she motioned for the officers to escort him out. Squirming, Merlin tried to face her,

“Where are they taking me?” 

Emma looked away; he’d trusted her to get him off as she did with most rebels. How could you tell someone they’re being dragged to their execution? 

The rest of the day was unexciting as traffic to cityhall inched along outside. Most people brought in were poor pickpockets and were sent back outside after being relieved of their belongings and the home checkers deployed to search their homes. There were a few fights in the streets, one non-fatal stabbing and only one broken car window. Oddly, no more rebels. Usually two or three, sometimes more, suspected rebels were brought in. Today it was only Merlin; by the time the five o’clock drones blared the alarm outside, Emma was already finished her assignments.

She and David walked together to the cityhall; she listened as he rambled about the stabbing victim and how they hadn’t caught his attacker. Emma only half-listened, though, her mind preoccupied with worry for Killian. He could be dead for all she knew. 

Cityhall was packed when they pushed their way inside, President Gold already standing at the podium in the center of the stage. The faded, red chairs creaked loudly as thousands of people took their seats at once and the lights dimmed. Emma remembered her foster mother once told her the building had been used for entertainment before the nuclear war and that was why the lights pointed at the stage were so bright. They still hurt her eyes every time they flashed on, though, even up in the balcony seats. 

“Good Evening,” The president began, his voice, eerily reptilian, booming through the speakers, “I would like to begin by thanking the police for getting everyone here safely today.” He paused as people clapped. Emma didn’t join in, “On a similar note, Rebellion activity has increased significantly this passed month. We are thankful tonight that the police have captured three of the savages so we may bring them to justice before the Gods tonight.”

The applause returned, and again Emma refused to participate. The President continued on, talking about law changes (as usual there were none), agriculture and food allowance for the impending nuclear winter. She had barely noticed when Regina and Sheriff Humbert joined the president on stage.

“This morning,” Regina answered a question Emma hadn’t heard, “thanks to our officers, he was caught inside the pharmacy and admitted to stealing the medicine.”

She was talking about Merlin. Shocked whispers sent shivers up her spine. Killian’s friend, one who cared enough to risk his life to steal medicine for him, was about to be executed because of her. She should have convinced Killian to take the medicine last night instead of getting frustrated. Merlin wouldn’t have even been in the city if she had.

President Gold nodded as if pleased, “May the Gods serve him mercy. Let us proceed.” He motioned toward the side of the stage where three officers emerged, uniforms completely black instead of blue like hers, escorting two men and a woman with burlap sacs on their heads. After forcing the prisoners to their knees, the president continued,

“Robin Hood. For the accounts of embezzlement and treason, I sentence you to death.” The bag was removed from the first man’s head and Emma gasped. She recognized his sandy hair and stubble; he protected the small patch of woodland deep in the inner city. Robin, a traitor? She couldn’t believe it. If they’d caught him… how long until they caught her?

“Merlin Emrys. For the accounts of attempted theft of government property, I sentence you to death.” Emma couldn’t watch as the officer pulled the sac off Merlin’s head, her heart aching for the man she barely knew.

“Mulan Hua. For the account of murder in the second degree, I sentence you to death.” The woman was unfamiliar, her skin a light golden colour, her face constructed strangely and her hair, very long and raven coloured. Her arms were tattooed under her red leather shirt.

The three officers lined up behind the prisoners, drawing the pistols from their holsters. Emma looked away, anticipating the gunshots and smattering of blood and brainmatter on the stage. 

It never came. 

Instead, smoke flooded the balcony seats in front of her, making several women scream in confusion.The smoke rose rapidly, triggering the ancient sprinkler system which trickled water over the audience. Immediately people sprung from their seats, stumbling into each other as they pushed for the doors.

The lights suddenly shut down, leaving more people screaming in the dark. The only light came from the scarlet flares laying on the ground, billowing with smoke. Emma felt someone grab her hand. At first she thought it was David, but she could hear him in the distance yelling for people to remain calm. Panicking, she wrenched her hand free, balling it in a fist and impulsively swinging in the person’s direction. The hand shot up to catch her wrist, squeezing gently,

“Calm down, love. Follow me.”


End file.
